


Rigor Samsa

by ooliblikas



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Angst, Crime, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mental Illness, Multiple Personalities, Shoplifting, view-switching
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-04 03:52:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5319392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ooliblikas/pseuds/ooliblikas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is rarely any solace to be found in learning to cope with a debilitating mental illness, but Roxas makes the most of it as he tries to make amends with his past, present, and future. With his sister’s wedding an impending reality, Roxas tries to rebuild his relations with his family, including his older brother, Sora. Everything back-fires, though, when Sora brings home his new boyfriend who boasts vermillion hair and chartreuse eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

_Turn back, turn back from this cave,_

_you said let me prove that I'm brave,_

_let me keeping going,_

_but the cave goes for miles and miles and miles, and you're so tired,_

_but I know that you're strong, so turn back, turn back_

 

* * *

**Prologue**

It was never exactly like waking up. Parts of him were still conscious, self-aware of the shifting tectonic-plates that were the basis of Roxas’ fragile mental state. He just felt himself slip back into place, as if he’d recently been suspended in a state of purgatory. Unplugged and disconnected, only to be restarted. He groaned in the back of his throat, esophagus burning raw from a source he couldn’t recall, but was certain was alcohol. He flexed fingers, digging into the snow beneath him as he rolled on his side to cough and dry-heave, saliva mixing with blood on freshly fallen snow. There was no glory to be found at the bottom of the barrel and the male knew this as he wiped a mixture of blood, saliva, and snot from his mouth with the back of his hand.  

“Not again.”

He choked on the words, voice foreign and distant as he forced himself to stand on weak legs. Disorientated wasn’t a strong enough word to explain just how truly out of realm the blond was feeling. He had no idea what day it was, where he was, or even how he’d gotten here. It was a mystery laid to rest somewhere deep within his brain meant for someone _else_.  To top it off, everyone had their mouths shut, as if they were holding onto some secret he wasn’t privy to. The more scenarios he constructed, the more the panic and bile rose in his stomach, coating his spongey esophagus in stomach acid that he hoped would eat away at his flesh until he was nothing more but a puddle of blood mixing with melting snow. He wanted to vomit, but couldn’t. There was nothing in him that he could dispose of.

Wide-eyed and falling into the familiary of panic, Roxas scanned his surroundings in search of something vaguely familiar. A sign that he’d been here before, but it didn't come. He was on the side of a stretch of high-way that undoubtedly lead to bumfuck nowhere. In desperation, he willed his legs to cooperate with his brain, pushing himself to walk down the paved road least he freeze to death.

With no concept of time, he wasn’t sure how long he’d been walking down the road when he finally stumbled upon a gas station. The building served as a beacon, a testament to the fact that Roxas hadn’t awoken during the apocalypse, and that, _yes_ , humanity was still alive and well. He quickenedd his strides until he was practically jogging, pulling open the front-door in time with an ear-splitting chime above head that signaled a customer. He was greeted with a wave of heat, relief settling in his frozen and stiff joints. 

“Jesus, kid, I’ve seen road kill that looked better than you.”

Roxas looked at the man who sat behind the counter for the first time since entering, and then to the security monitor above his head that was displaying Roxas reflection. The gas attendant had a point, half of Roxas face was an explosion of lilacs and blood had congealed where his microscopic side-burns began.  He could even make out a distinct hand-print bruising around his neck. It didn’t hurt, though, because the injuries didn’t really belong to _him_. It did, however, make him sick to his stomach. His thoughts raced until he swallowed hard.

“Can you tell me how far away from Seton, Minnesota I am?” Roxas spoke through flaring nostrils, bottom-lip quivering around each punctuated syllable. He had to clasp his hands together in order to stop them from shaking, flexing fingers and cracking knuckles all in a vague attempt to keep the impending panic attack at bay.

“Minnesota? Well, I’d say you’re about fifteen hundred miles away.” The man frowned, arching a brow, “You’re in Vermont, kid. Must’ve been a ‘helluvah night if you ended up here.” The man raised his brows, surprisingly nonplused by Roxas’ current disposition, as if he’d seen worse. And, judging by the bars on the front window, he probably had.

Roxas felt himself slipping again, psychosomatic twitch predating the oncoming invasion, but he gritted his teeth until his jaw popped, “Do you have a phone I could use?”

“Yeah, there’s a payphone out back.”

Back out in the cold, the sun had disappeared behind thick gray-cloud that rolled in with a frigid breeze. Roxas inhaled sharply, wrapping arms around his torso in a futile attempt to keep the cold at bay. Walking along the perimeter of the gas station, he found the pay-phone in question. In a fluid motion, he plucked the phone off the hook, and after finding quarters buried deep in the recess of his pockets, he popped them in the slot before dialing. Only to hang up. He flinched at the clatter of coins falling into the coin return slot. He closed his eyes and breathed, pressing the reciever to his forehead as he mustered the courage necessary to make the call. He repeated the process, but this time with success. As the phone rang he felt the heat of tears building up at the corners of his eyes, teeth pulling at loose skin on his bottom lip.

“Hello?”

He exhaled sharper than he intended, creating static in its wake. A tear slipped down his cheek as he heard the familiar voice of his cousin on the other line, eyes closing tightly before popping open once more. His throat felt thick with mucus and he had to swallow before speaking through shaky breaths, “Hey, Namine," Roxas paused, taking another moment to survey his surroundings, "it’s me."

“Oh my god, _Roxas_?! Where are you? Your mother has been freaking out!”

He could hear the tension in his cousin’s voice, a melting-pot of emotions high-lighting the girl’s genuine fear over his whereabouts and mental state. Out of everything, this was always the hardest part for him. He could take most things in stride, but the burden he was to his family what was what really wore him down.

“It’s happening again, Nam. I’m—“Roxas paused, grip tightening around the receiver, “I’m in fucking _Vermont_ right now. I can’t remember anything. Not a god damn thing.” He breathed out, realizing he’d been holding his breath through his last statement.

And when his cousin put him on hold, demanding that he stay on the line while she retrieved his mother, he filled the silence with an agonizing cry that came from somewhere deep within.

 


	2. Trust fall

_And I feel like I'm some kind of Frankenstein_  
_Waiting for a shock to bring me back to life_  
_But I don't wanna spend all my time_  
_Waiting for lighting to strike_

 

* * *

 

**Sora**

  
“So how is he?” 

  
Sora tried to sound concerned, but they’d been here before. If it wasn’t a phone call informing him that his little brother had been arrested, then it was a phone call telling him that Roxas was in the hospital. It was an endlessly looping pattern where all roads led to Roxas’ inevitable self-destruction.   
  
“He’s doing better, but everything else is a fucking mess. You remember Roxas’ friend Hayner, right? They go to the same university and he called mom to tell her that Roxas had been missing for  _two_  days. Turns out Roxas hadn’t been to class for a little over a  _week_.” Sora could hear the underlining tension in Larxene’s voice, even if his sister was trying to hide it with choked-up laughter. Larxene paused to sniffle, exhaling static into the phone “He’s back to seeing his psychiatrist and there’s been some talk about trying to convince him to self-commit, but I doubt anything will come from that.”   
  
Sora shook his head in response, hollow laugh escaping from the confines of his throat, “Of course not, Larx! Roxas will tell everyone that he’s got himself under control, mom will believe it, blatantly ignoring anyone’s professional advice and the cycle will repeat.” Of course, Sora knew Larxene would accuse him of being harsh, even if she didn’t say it to _him_ specifically. Sora was known for having virtually zero tolerance for Roxas or his mental illness, an illness that Sora didn’t believe in. His low tolerance was usually why he was the last to be informed, and why Larxene was always the one to inform him.   
  
There was an elongated pause before Larxene finally sighed, “Anyway, they’re releasing him from the hospital tomorrow. Mom wanted me to call you, and—“There was another pause, followed by muffled noises in the background that Sora couldn’t quite distinguish before his sister started again, “—that she’s looking forward to you coming home. In fact, we all are.” Sora didn’t believe that was all she had to say, but he smiled nonetheless.  
  
“Well, I’ll be there Thursday. Told mom we’d stay for an extra week to help out with Roxas. So, don’t worry, I’ll be there and we’ll face the oncoming storm together. “ Sora paused, leaning back in the kitchen chair he’d been occupying, determined to change the subject, “Speaking of storms, any luck getting Marluxia to dye his hair for the wedding?”  
  
“No! He insists on keeping it pastel  _pink_. Something about preserving his image even in marriage, and don’t even get me started on Demyx and his hair. I finally got him to grow out his hair and then he goes and shaves it again. If they want to hold on to their faux rock-and-roll lifestyles fine by me, but not for  _my_  wedding.” Larxene huffed, and Sora was pretty sure he heard his cousin, Demyx, yelling in the background about Larxene being a soul-stealing harpy.   
  
Sora cradled his cell-phone between his shoulder and ear, listening to a brief quarrel over the phone before Larxene was back, clearing her throat, “I swear, Sor, at this point my ideal wedding involves nothing catching fire and no one going to the hospital.”   
  
“Sounds like it’ll be a wedding to remember.” Sora laughed, shaking his head, “Can it really be a Woods wedding if nothing catastrophic happens?”  
  
“Speaking of catastrophe,  _please_ , tell me you’ve given Axel enough forewarning before throwing him into the shark infested waters? “  
  
Sora hesitated as he thought about his boyfriend and how little he’d told him about his family. In the year they’d been together, he’d spent all major holidays with Axel’s family. The topic of Sora’s family had come up a few times, of course, but Sora always shot down the conversation before it could even start. Eventually, Axel backed off on the line of questioning. As Sora was contemplating an acceptable answer to the question, Larxene interrupted.  
  
“Oh my god, Sora! You’ve been seeing each other for a year and you still haven’t told him?”  
  
Sora flinched at the yelling, holding the phone away from his ear until his sister was finished before tentatively bringing the phone back, “Believe me, I want to. I want to just get it out in the open, to be honest, but I just _can’t_. It’s not like I’m telling him that Roxas is depressed, or something, I’m telling him that, on occasion, Roxas thinks he’s three other people. I just—I just don’t want to drive him away, is all.” Sora finished, tone deflating.   
  
For a moment, there was silence before Larxene sighed and spoke in a softer voice, "Sora, if this guy loves you, then he's not going to give a _fuck_  how crazy Roxas is. But you have to tell him. Imagine how much worse it's going to be when you two get here and his first exposure is, like, Vanitas taking a baseball bat to mom's vases.”  
  
As always, Larxene had a point. Axel was going to find out about his brother sooner or later, and sooner seemed a lot less traumatizing. He bit the corner of his bottom lip before rolling his eyes in defeat, "I'll tell him tonight."

  
  
**Roxas**

Roxas stirred, exhaustion ebbing its way through a body that had been downwardly spiraling since awaking admist frozen ground. He'd been in the hospital for the last day and a half, forced to endure the persistant questioning that led to dead-ends. It was reasoned that Vanitas had been the one to hitch-hike across the country for reasons unknown to anyone other than Vanitas himself; who, of course, insisted on biting his tongue on the manner. It was also clear that something had gone terribly wrong along the way, resulting in Roxas' battered state. So many questions were left unanswered that Roxas had to endure everything from having a flash-light shined into his eyes to having a rape-kit performed. The latter to which Roxas vehemently refused until transitioning to Vanitas, who threatened bodily harm to anyone who came near him until he was finally sedated.   
  
“Did you paint my nails?” The question came out in a soft-slur, eye-brows furrowing together as Roxas tried to lift his hand to look, but the sedatives he was still coming off from were making his movements stunted and languid. He inhaled sharply, wincing at the pain that had finally begun to settle into his body as he tried to sit up.

  
Beside him, Namine looked up from her phone, “Technically, I painted _Xion’s_ nails, but  _yes_.”  
  
Roxas made a sound of acknowledgment in the back of his throat, cautiously flexing fingers before finally examining his nails with tentative appraisal, “Well, at least it’s _black_.” He spoke dryly.  
  
Namine tossed blonde hair over her shoulders, extending her arms outward in feigned exasperation, “Well, I t _ried_ to tell Xion that you’re definitely more of a ‘hot-pink’ _or_ a ‘bubble bath’ color, but she wouldn’t have it.” Namine grinned, arching a perfectly manicured brow as she did, “You should see your _eye-shadow_.”  
  
Roxas wasn’t biting on the taunt, “Is anyone else here?”   
  
Namine shook her head, “No, your mother is currently making Martha Stewart roll over in her grave and Larxene is probably auditioning for Bridezilla's.”   
  
Roxas let out a choking laugh, “Two things. One, Martha Stewart isn’t dead and, two, Bridezilla’s isn’t even on the air anymore,” Roxas paused, measuring the look on his cousins face that read  _And you would know, how?_ “Which I only know because Ventus DVR’d the entire final season.” Roxas concluded, meekly defending his sense of man-hood.  
  
“Well let that be a testament to how utterly insane your mother is being about Sora’s arrival. She has not stopped talking about Sora’s new boyfriend, either, who, by the way, is an  _artist_. With actual connections, but do you think Sora could drop me a line?  _No!_  I mean, really, Sora disappears for four years and now he's going to return with his super-hunk of a boyfriend and pretend that everything is liquid?”  
  
Roxas found himself trying to stifle a laugh, holding a hand up to cover his mouth, “You're way more jaded about this then you should be. The only person Sora is genuinely angry at is me. Sora and I have always had bad blood between us, but at least with Larxene’s wedding and the mysterious splendor of Axel, I will fade into the background with a flourish.” Roxas spoke with animated hands, having regained his motor-skills once again.   
  
“You sound like Ventus” Namine snorted, referring to the more dramatic and manic alter of the four.

 Namine then sniffled, surprising the both of them as her eyes grew red with unshed tears. Rolling her sleeves down, she wiped away tears and hiccupped, “I'm sorry—I was just--I'm just so happy you're safe.” Namine was crying now, tears freely rolling down her cheeks, mixing with an embarrassed laughter as she stood to lean over the bed and embrace Roxas. 

Roxas involuntarily winced at the contact, reminded of the bruises that were littering his body, but he pushed his pain aside to embrace his cousin, “Thank you for answering my phone call” Roxas held on to his cousin, speaking into her shoulder as he found himself shaking with his own unshed tears. 

  
**Sora**

  
  
As soon as Sora stepped foot into Breakers Hall, he was greeted with the numerous murals that littered the walls accompanied with the guttural sounds akin to the possessed that came from the first-year theater class that was mid-warm up, both attesting to the fact that Sora had walked into the art building of Radiant University.   
  
The brunette had to stifle a laughter at the animalistic wails as he walked down the halls until he located the classroom Axel held his Drawing-I class in. Axel, who had a penchant for going far and above the conventions of practical teaching, had strung bed-sheets from ceiling to floor around the classroom in order to create dramatic drapery for his students to draw. Which they did, diligently so, while chattering among themselves.   
  
If it weren’t for Axel’s vermillion eye-catching hair, he would’ve blended in with his students. The twenty-nine year old had his hair tied up in a bun, loose ends sticking out in gravity-defying chaos that had the amazing ability to only get gradually  _worse_  as the night wore on. The man wore form-fitting black-slacks and a maroon polo-sweater that showed off his broad shoulders. His hands were covered in charcoal residue, and as he strode around the classroom, his chartreuse eyes occasionally lit up before he launched himself into sincere and animated appraisal of work. High-lighting the atmosphere was Axel’s ipod on shuffle, currently playing  _Bohemian Rhapsody_  much to everyone’s amused enjoyment.   
  
On more than one occasion, Sora would sit in on the class, casually observing so long as Axel wasn’t lecturing on anything new. With the semester coming to an end, though, Axel was mostly winding everyone down with drawings in preparation for the portfolio review during finals week. Axel, tipped off by one of his students, finally noticed Sora, and striding over to him, Axel ran charcoal stained fingers through his tresses, “I didn’t expect you to be stopping by. Thought you’d be packing.”  
  
Sora laughed, momentarily brushing the question to the side as he busied himself by grabbing a tissue and reaching up to gently remove a smudge of charcoal that was staining Axel’s forehead, “I  _was_  packing, but I thought I’d come observe my favorite artist at work.” Granted, Sora wasn’t referring to Axel’s actual art-work, but rather to the sheets hanging around the room in half-haphazard fashion, “You should’ve told me about your superior interior decorating skills.”  
  
“Don’t be jealous, babe.” Axel snickered, taking the moment to lean forward, “Later, we can redecorate the _bedroom_ , if you want.” Axel punctuated his statement with a waggle of his brows, keeping his voice hushed.   
  
Sora laughed, gently shoving Axel at his solar plexus in encouragement for him to return to his diligent students, “That was not _nearly_ as suave as you think it was.” Sora shook his head, snorting as the red-head returned to his students.   
  
As Axel stepped away to re-enter the chaos of drapery, the red-head checked his watch before stepping into the center of the room to direct everyone’s attention to him, “Alright guys, you’re free from my drapery hell. Don’t forget that your portfolios are due next class.” 

  
The room erupted in momentary chaos as students started cleaning up their work-spaces and began filing out of the door. As they did, Axel slid his hands into the pockets of his slacks, “And good luck on finals.” He finished, taking a few moments to watch his students leave and answer any last minute questions regarding the impending portfolio critique.  
  
When the last student left, Axel parted his lips in acknowledgement, raising an index-finger to the heavens as his iPod rolled over to the next song, "Is that _our_ song? Y’know, the song that played when we first made eye-contact and new it was _forever_.”

  
“No, Axel that is definitely _not_ our song.” Sora laughed, shaking his head in embarrassed disapproval as he watched his lanky boyfriend engage in the type of gyrating hip-movements that solidified just how little rhythm the red-head had when it came to dancing.   
  
“Are you sure?” Axel pressed the issue, dancing toward his boyfriend in mock-sultry movements meant to seduce, but only left Sora laughing, gently clutching his stomach as he watched in idle adoration.  
  
“I’m pretty sure I would remember if Britney Spear’s _Toxi_ c was playing. I mean, we met at a library, so.” Sora spoke through laughter, egging the man on.   
  
“Must have just been me, then.” Axel sang-song the last part, having finally reached Sora where he turned the iPod off, plunging them in silence that was filled with Sora's quieting laughs.   
  
“Do your students know that you listen to Britney Spears?” Sora quirked a curious brow, trying to suppress the urge to smile and fall into another fit of laughter.   
  
“’ _Ch’yeah._  They know I run these streets with sick-beats and funky-moves.” Axel snickered, gesturing to his classroom while referencing ‘ _these streets’,_ shit-eating grin plastered on his face, “But only on Monday’s and Wednesday’s which means I have to clean this up before we go home.” The red-head made a clicking sound with his teeth, rolling his shoulders forward.   
  
“Better get to work then,  _Vanilla Ice_.” Sora snorted, sliding off the desk to help Axel remove the sheets that were hanging from the rafters. 

 

* * *

  
  
When they’d finally finished, the atmosphere had gradually become more solemn, finally prompting Axel to quirk an inquisitive brow, “Alright, spill it, kid. The last time you looked this guilty was when you accidentally killed my gold-fish." Axel took the sheets from Sora's arms, setting them aside before sitting on one of the table tops. 

Sora frowned at his own transparency, rolling his jaw forward in thought before sitting across from Axel on one of the empty art-stools, "Axel, my brother, Roxas, he's--" Sora paused, wrapping his arms around in a protective fashion, “—sick.” The brunette drew out the word, rolling it around on his tongue as if it was a foreign concept to him.

“He has dissociative identity disorder which means that he has, or—at least—thinks he has, multiple personalities.” Sora’s voice quivered, attempting to numb the speech by using his hands to aid in his speech, eyes-directed somewhere behind Axel, “So, most of the time, he’s Roxas, my twenty-two year old brother who knows his way around the kitchen almost as good as my mother. And he’s an amazing writer, even if he doesn’t believe it. “Sora’s voice was raised in honest admiration, faltering as he continued,” But sometimes, he’s also Vanitas, this total arrogant prick who is consistently getting arrested,” Sora’s tone changed to striking disdain, choked-up laughter emitting from his throat as his eyes became blurry with tears, “And then he’s Ventus, this manic-depressive club-kid who couldn’t sit still even if you paid them. And even then, there’s still Xion, a painfully timid girl who collects sea-shells and hides in the closet when she’s scared.”

Sora inhaled sharply now, leaning back to wipe tears from his eyes, breathing out in an elongated sigh, “And I’ve been scared to tell you because I couldn’t fathom openly asking someone to be okay with,” Sora paused, trying to find the word for it before finally settling, “— _that_.”

Sora tentatively looked up at Axel who had been listening patiently, eye-brows furrowed in vague comprehension before the red-head finally spoke, “Sora, I l _ove_ you. If you told me tomorrow that you were joining a cult and sacrificing virgins in the name of our lord, and savior, _Justin Bieber_ , I’d say ‘Sign me the fuck up’.” Both males laughed now, Sora hiccupping as Axel continue, “It’s just me and you babe, everything else is just—“Axel paused, finishing off in a gentle tone, “— _background noise_.”

In fluid motion, Axel slid of the table-top and embraced Sora, kissing the top of his head affectionately, “And I’m sure I’ll love your family too, even your brother.” They remained in embrace for a few moments longer, Sora shedding tears as relief settled in the pit of his stomach. When Axel finally leaned back, the red-head smile at him, “Come on, let’s go home. “


	3. Chapter Two: Talk About All The Feelings I'm Feeling

_I'm like your neighbor's hands on your father's throat:_  
_"Sweetie, you go back inside, see this is just for adults"_  
_So adult is what we'll be, domestic violence in denim_  
_Each tumble down the stairs appeals your puff paint addendum_  
_You say I'm your backpack caught on a chain link fence_  
_But dear I'm a thank you card in the future tense_  
_I'm jumping out of cakes serving divorce papers_  
_I'd say I love you too but I'm all out of favors_

 **Chapter Two:**  Talk About All The Feelings I'm Feeling

* * *

**Roxas**

"You're not wearing  _that_ , are you?"

The question came from Roxas' mother, flowing from her mouth with the type of hesitance reserved for dipping toes in water. She was standing in his door way, pushing back the black-curtain where a door used to be until Roxas, or more specifically,  _Ventus_ , had plummeted into the type of agonizing depression that left him binging on prescription pills until he frothed at the mouth and Roxas' had his stomach pumped. The curtain had been a compromise that offered him a vague sense of privacy without the ability to shut out the world.

"I am." Roxas answered pointedly, observing himself in the mirror with a pained expression. Two days out of the hospital left his bruises to melt into a yellowish-green that reminded him of puke. His skin had taken on heightened sensitivity, the lightest of touches had him sucking air through the miniscule gaps between his teeth. It almost felt as if his brain was compensating for the pain he'd misplaced during his transition.

"It's  _disgusting_." His mother argued carefully, treading deeper into his bedroom that was stuck somewhere between the trenches of childhood and adulthood. The room had an impressive variety of junk that extended from the horror movie posters that Vanitas decorated the walls with, the  _organic bedding_ that Ventus insisted was crucial to his newly established  _vegan_  life-style, and an easy-bake oven that had been collecting dust the last two years when Xion decided she was too old for it. Anything that Roxas considered sacred to himself, was hidden in the spare room turned study.

"Then it's fitting, isn't it?" Roxas questioned, observing the graphic t-shirt that exhibited a woman with half-lidded eyes giving fellatio, cum dribbling from her chin. Only, the penis was hidden behind a censor bar that boasted the designer 'Monroe' across it in blocky-white lettering. It was degradingly vulgar, but the psychological light-switch that was supposed to tell Roxas when to act appropriately, was stuck on 'off'.

"Roxas,  _please_ , don't do this tonight." His mother pleaded, opening his closet to dig through clothes that were going through the same identity crisis as the room and its owner. She eventually pulled out a couple of dress-shirts and held them up against Roxas, "See? Isn't that better? Everyone is going to be here soon and I would like this night to go smoothly, understand?" There was desperation in his mother's voice, forcing him to accept the shirt with a sigh.

When his mother left his room, Roxas looked through the dress shirts before tucking them into the confines of a drawer in hopes of them never being uncovered again. In compromise, Roxas pulled the t-shirt over his head and discarded it on his bed before continuing to search through his closet. He eventually settled on a black hood-less sweater that boasted a large pentagram with the phrase 'Sinners are Winners'. It wasn't exactly leagues better than what he'd been wearing, but it was a compromise.

As he descended the stairs, he spotted Demyx who eyed him inquisitively before barking out a laugh, "Your mother's going to kill you."

"Yeah, well, you didn't see my first pick." Roxas mused, joining Demyx in the living room where the two cousins exchanged brief hugs, "Where's your sister?"

"All of the woman, _including_  Marluxia, have gathered in the kitchen for their monthly séance. And if you listen closely—" Demyx slung an arm around Roxas shoulders while pulling him flush against his chest as if shielding him from the horrors that laid ahead, "—you can  _almost_  hear the wails of the dead."

With the kind of timing that made Roxas wonder just how long Demyx had been rehearsing this, he heard the shrill cackling laughter that belonged to Demyx's mother, Braylen.

Roxas chuckled, easily ducking out from under Demyx's hold the moment the older male made an attempt to ruffle his already dishelved hair, "Please, tell me you're getting treatment for PTSD after listening to that for the last twenty-six years because,  _boy_ , do  _I_ need it and I only have to deal with her during family functions."

It was no secret that Demyx's mother tended to be the butt-end of Roxas' and Demyx's jokes as the woman was the type of right-wing christian conservative that made Roxas want to slice his gums open with a razor before drowning, open-mouthed, in salt-water. More importantly, his aunt believed both her son and Roxas were to be damned to the farthest depths of hell for a variety of reasons. It was the reason Demyx moved in with his father when he turned fifteen before finally getting a place of his own.

"When's Sora and his beau getting here?" Roxas arched a brow. Roxas had only heard about Axel from his mother and Namine, having effectively cut communications with his brother the moment Sora left for college almost five years ago. Though, despite his attempts to disengage himself from his brother, it seemed that Larxene was always keeping him up to date. Now, for the first time in what felt like a millennia, Sora was coming home for the Christmas holidays all because Larxene was getting married the second week of January. If Roxas were honest, the prospect of a family reunion made him queasy.

"Should be here soon. Pretty sure Sora called from the airport not too long ago." Demyx offered, rolling his shoulders. Roxas assumed Demyx picked up on his discomfort because his cousin quickly supplied, "Promised Namine that I wouldn't isolate myself from the family, so I should be joining the festivities. You coming?" Demyx took a few steps backward as he spoke, heading towards the kitchen where another round of laughter could be heard.

Roxas shook his head, "I'm gonna have a smoke first." Roxas smiled faintly, excusing himself with a final nod of acknowledgement before he stepped outside on the porch.

Outside, the cold air bit at Roxas' skin, coating him in the familiarity of numbness. With a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, he used unsteady hands to light his cigarette while inhaling smoke. The sleepy suburban neighborhood that outstretched in front of him was decorated in preparation for Christmas, multicolored lights strung along bushes and inflatable santa-clauses each more jovial than the last. Roxas tried to find joy in it, but he merely felt nauseated to the point he wondered just how he'd become so disenchanted with life.

With an exhale of smoke, snow-flakes began falling in rhythmic patterns only to evaporate before making contact with the pavement. Another inhale of smoke and car-lights were turning down the road, and as the unfamiliar car pulled up into the driveway, Roxas snuffed out the cigarette on the wooden rail. He then took hesitant steps down the porch, doc martens thudding heavily against the wood as he tucked his hands into the pockets of his black-skinny jeans.

Just as the snow began to coat the ground and stick to Roxas' eye-lashes, Sora climbed out of driver-side with a smile on the moment he spotted Roxas. Sora was tanner than he remembered which Roxas assumed was a result of his brother living in California. He looked happy, light-years away from the disgruntled and bitter youth that Roxas remembered.

"You're a sight for sore eyes." The animosity that had been festering between them over the years seemingly evaporated with the simplistic phrase, Roxas taking a hand out of his pocket to embrace Sora. There was a shake of laughter in the exchange, high-lighting their discomfort over physical contact.

Sora leaned back from the hug, still smiling as he took in Roxas' appearance with such careful observation that Roxas briefly wondered if spontaneous combustion was a possibility, "You look good, Roxas." Sora confirmed slowly, drawing out the words with a gradually softening gaze, "Larxene told me what happened—" Sora inhaled sharply, words disappearing in the puff of air the brunette exhaled, "I'm just glad you're safe."

Roxas opened his mouth to say something more, but was cut off when Sora's boyfriend finally climbed out of the car. Roxas' felt his jaw go slack the moment they made eye-contact over Sora's shoulder. Roxas recalled Namine saying that Axel was a heart-throb, but that was putting it mildly. If someone told Roxas that Axel's birth was marked with the aligning of the solar system and the result of sacrificing first-born sons to the fiery depths of hell, Roxas would've believed it. Axel was agonizingly tall, making Roxas a flea in comparison. His hair was a vibrant red, reminding Roxas of the seasonal poinsettias that decorated nearby front-porches. Most striking were Axel's acidic green-eyes that appeared luminescent despite the pitch-black night. The man's inhumane beauty made Roxas want to jump into an incinerator to spare him the agony of having to navigate a conversation with the man.

"Roxas, this is my boyfriend, Axel. Axel, my little brother, Roxas." Sora hadn't missed a beat, locking his arms around one of Axel's as the red-head joined them.

Axel smiled, leaning forward slightly to extend his hand outward, "Nice to meet you, Roxas." Axel's voice was deeper than Roxas had expected, with a soft rasp and a hint of an accent that Roxas couldn't immediately place.

"Likewise." Roxas countered with some ease, shaking the hand only to hyper focus on his finger-nails that were still painted black from Namine, a flush of embarrassment painting his cheeks as he withdrew his hand. To cover up his discomfort, words began spilling from his chapped lips in a flood, "Everyone is mid-séance and I hope you two brought your appetite because there's certain to be bloodshed with a touch of apple-pie." Roxas spoke matter-of-fact, revealing no hint of amusement which seemed to have Axel furrowing his brow in confusion that lingered on horror.

"My family likes to self-medicate with bleak humor." Sora defended quickly, forcing an uncomfortable laugh before giving Roxas a short glare, "Right, Roxas?"

"Yeah,  _totally_ , the last time someone actually bled during a family function was two years ago when—" Roxas paused with a stunted laugh, reading Sora's expression that dared him to go any further with his story. The blonde waved a dismissive hand, "—It's a boring story. We should head inside."

Back inside, Roxas found himself melting into the background during introductions, claustrophobia setting in the moment he rationalized just how many people were being crammed into the living room. The sound of indistinct conversations mixed with jarring laughter began blending together in Roxas' mind until he dismissed himself to offer to help his mother in the kitchen.

"That is not what I had in my mind when I told you to change your shirt." Roxas mother's scolded the second she was able to separate him from the pack.

Roxas snorted, raising his hands in mock surrender before rotating his wrists so that his palms were upward in a shrug instead, "It's a compromise."

"'Sinners Are Winners' is not a compromise. Your aunt almost fainted when she saw you wearing that. Do you have any idea how long it took for me to convince her to give Sora and Axel a chance?" Roxas watched his mother heatedly stir the contents of a bowl, "She almost didn't come to this dinner."

Roxas sighed, lifting his head to the heavens in a sigh of exasperation before looking at his mother, "No offense, mom, but  _fuck_  aunt Braylen. Sora shouldn't have to beg for her acceptance, she should just love him unconditionally. Y'know, seeing as he's her  _nephew_  and all." Roxas snorted, rolling his eyes.

" _Roxas_ —" His mother hissed in warning, shaking her head before calming, "Let's just try to get through this night without suffering any causalities, alright?" Roxas mother glanced over her shoulder to look at him, a soft, but cautious, smile on her face, "Now help me set the table."

For a short while, the evening seemed to be running smoothly. Roxas listened idly as Axel and Sora prattled off their history with each other, including Axel's profession as an Art Professor and free-lance artist. Axel spoke with animated gestures and a type of confidence that left Roxas intimidated, if not altogether envious. Worst of all, he was  _funny_ , picking up on the families use of dry-sarcasm and off-colored jokes. As much as Roxas wanted to despise Axel just for being an extension of Sora, he couldn't.

"So, Axel, how does your family feel about—" Roxas watched his aunt try to formulate the words, her mouth pursed in contemplation before she finally managed, "—this."

Up until that moment, the dinner had been going smoothly. Now the air shifted at the sudden and intrusive question, discomfort evident on Axel's face and Roxas noted that the red-head was biding time by chewing on broccoli. Sora, too, shifted uncomfortably, taking a sip from his glass of wine.

"Mom—" Namine had started, much to everyone's surprise seeing as the girl rarely had the nerve to even remotely call her mother out on her antics.

"It's just a question." Braylen defended, taking a sip of her own wine as she waited with baited breath.

"Should I break out the pitch-forks?" Roxas began, mouth presumably cutting ties with the brain in order to form a revolution against all of the neurological pathways that were telling Roxas to have a little composure, "Or, wait, we could burn them at the stake" Roxas withdrew his gaze from Braylen to focus on Axel, the hapless strange who was trying to navigate the family dynamics, "We use to have the best bonfires when we were kids."

"Roxas—" Roxas' mother started, giving him a stern look that went unnoticed by the blonde.

"Please, Daisy, there's no use scolding the boy. He enjoys making a mockery of himself." Braylen maintained her composure, filling the all-consuming silence with the scraping of knife and fork against plate as she sliced her prime-rib into miniscule pieces, "If you ask me, you should have had him admitted to the psychiatric ward like we discussed." The tone was cutting, intended to hurt Roxas.

Behind the curtains of bleached-blond hair, a land-slide was forming in Roxas mind. The experience reminded Roxas of the paper-dolls Namine used to make, smooshed together until she would pull them out accordion style, all connected at the hands. He was separating, floating somewhere beyond their table-top existence.

"Fuck you." Roxas had muttered, jaw rolling forward. His posture relaxed, less rigid and defined. It was newly discovered confidence that  _Roxas_  didn't have.

"Excuse me?" Braylen challenged, setting her silverware down to lean forward, "What did you say to me?"

There was increasingly growing tension at the table, but Roxas was blind to it. His face split into a smirk, leaning forward with the mindset to climb over the dining room table and strangle his aunt with her pearl necklace. He, of course, didn't, hands coming to grip the edge of the table instead, knuckles whitening as he spoke, "I said, Fuck. You." He spat, jaw rigid as he hissed out the consonants and vowels.

His aunt had immediately started lecturing him, her voice pitching to compensate for the fact that Roxas was now drowning out her words with the sound of his own screaming. It was pointless white-noise to him, but the misuse had his voice cracking and throat constricting with discomfort. He felt the mucus coating his throat in a desperate attempt to ease the sudden strain that Roxas was putting on the vocal cords. It was animalistic in nature, wildly primitive and the fact that everyone was staring at both himself and his aunt as if they'd completely lost their minds was the least of his concerns.

When he'd pushed his vocal cords too far, he laughed. It was stunted and broken, breath hitching. Then, as if he'd never been screaming at the dinner table, he pushed back his blonde-hair with the sort of relaxed ease that had everyone shifting uncomfortably, "Was I clear that time, or should I repeat myself?" His voice was hoarse.

Namine, who was always quick on her feet when it came to identifying the various culprits that inhabited Roxas' mind, stood up, "We should take a walk,  _Vanitas_." The name was supplied in haphazard fashion, Namine's way of methodically bringing everyone up to date. Her voice was shaken, tucking loose strands of blonde hair behind her ears.

"You'e not going anywhere with him, Namine. He's acting  _insane_." Braylen snapped, not prepared to so easily and routinely lose her daughter to Roxas' instability.

"You think that's insane?" Roxas was sliding his chair backwards now, coming to a stand, "I'll show you fucking insanity." Roxas spit out the words with newfound ferocity, picking up his plate and launching it clear across the dining room where it smashed against the nearby wall, leaving streaks of sauce and mashed potatoes in its wake. He made a move towards another dish, only to be stopped by Demyx who'd effectively restrained him, nearly wrestling him out of the dining room and into the living room.

"Cut the shit, Vanitas!" Demyx snapped once they were out of ear-shot, grip tightening on Roxas' arms. Roxas found himself blindly cursing at the man, trying to fight back until his posture eventually slackened in defeat. It was a momentary cool-down, panting with distress and aggravation. It was enough, though, that Demyx released his hold on Roxas' arm, prepared to intervene if the man attempted to make a dash back into the chaos he'd created.

Sora had apparently been following hot on their trails, appearing in the living room within seconds, "What the fuck is wrong with you?" The brunette snapped, giving Roxas a surprisingly hard shove that had him stumbling backwards, "You're always ruining  _everything_ , don't you get that?" Sora was yelling through a cracking-voice, eyes visibly watering.

Demyx had stood between them, trying to defuse the situation, "Sora, leave it." Demyx reasoned, gently carousing the brunette back into the dining room, "It's not Roxas."

"Of course it is!" Sora snapped, pushing back against Demyx, "Stop pretending he's not doing this on purpose. It's all in his goddamn head! It's pathetic!" As if to puncutate his point, Sora locked eyes with Roxas as if he could bore the sentiment into his skull.

In response, Roxas found himself chuckling, "I'm  _so_  out of here." His tone was one of apathy, disinterest increasingly consuming his hostility. If anyone made any attempt to stop him, he didn't notice as he made a show of grabbing a jacket from the coat closet before walking out of the house, slamming the door behind him with enough force that a few picture frames fell.

**SIX HOURS LATER**

**Riku**

"Thanks for the coffee." Riku smiled at the woman behind the counter, taking a sip of the scalding liquid with little regard for the safety of his mouth. The burning sensation didn't stop him though, finding a mixture of relief as he paid before walking back out in the snowstorm. With coffee in hand, he removed some of the excess snow that had accumulated on his shoes before getting into his police cruiser, relieved at the warmth that invaded his sense in combination with the coffee.

Much to his disappointment, though, his break was cut short when the radio clipped to his uniform buzzed to life, "Cruiser 208, do you copy?"

Riku closed his eyes in a sigh, discarding the coffee into his cup-holder before pressing the 'call' button on the radio to respond, "This is 208." His tone was cutting, choosing not to restrain his obvious discontent at being interrupted.

The dispatcher was non-pulsed as she continued, "Disorderly conduct at O'Rourke's Pub on 58th Street. Two suspects, white males in their mid-twenties, possible assault." The female voice droned, sounding disinterested, which wasn't much of a surprise to Riku. It was late at night and the town wasn't exactly bustling with criminal activity.

Riku sighed, briefly thinking of who else would be on duty at the moment. After pinching the bridge of his nose in contemplation, "Uh, what about unit 234?"

There was a moment of dead air before the dispatcher responded, "You told me to redirect any cases involving the Woods family to you, remember?" The woman's voice was hushed, almost curt as she grew impatient with him

At the surname, Riku couldn't help but flinch as he let out another elongated sigh, "Alright, I'm on it." With that, he flicked on his sirens and pulled out of the parking lot of the 24-hour coffee shop, tires squealing against the wetted pavement.

By the time he'd gotten down to the pub and defused the hostile situation, the snow had stopped falling. Roxas, who'd been the agitator in the confrontation, was seated on the curb with a scowl that distinctly reminded Riku of a cat after being dunked in a pool of water. The blonde's hair was matted with sweat, cow-licks sticking up in disarray.

"Can you even fathom how fucking lucky you are that no one is pressing charges?" Riku snapped, annoyed at himself for putting his neck, and job, on the line for the blonde. Riku reasoned it wasn't unusual for officers to look out for their friends and family members, but that was under the assumption that the friends or family members didn't make a habit out of regularly breaking the law.

"You could be my fairy god mother if you weren't so fucking annoying." Roxas supplied with a grin, lifting his head to look at him. The blonde's nose was bleeding, black-eye forming on the already tenderized skin. In response, Riku gave him a tissue, which Roxas accepted with a shaking hand.

"Next time don't hit on a girl with a wedding ring." Riku argued, pulling on a pair of surgical gloves so that he could properly inspect Roxas' face. The blond made a grunt of acknowledgement, wincing when Riku used an alcohol swab to disinfect the cut on his chin.

"Oops." Roxas smirked, chuckling.

"I'd ask if you learned your lesson, but I think we both know the answer to that." The words came out in an unamused drawl, earning another smirk from Roxas.

Riku then went through several questions in order to make sure that Roxas wasn't concussed before grabbing the man by the crook of his elbow and pulling him to his feet.

"Think we can ditch the friendship bracelets?" Roxas mused, allowing Riku to press him up against the police cruiser while Riku patted him over for any weapons or drug-paraphernalia, much to Roxas' annoyance. Riku then cuffed his wrists before jerking him backwards in a less than friendly way in hopes of getting his point across when it came to Roxas' behavior.

"Not a chance, kid. I'm taking you home, Rox- _Vanitas_ " Riku corrected himself, gently guiding the man into the backseat of the cruiser, careful not to have the blonde hit his head, "Try not to bleed on my seats. I just had them cleaned."


End file.
